Author's Notes: Written for hc_bingo, the prompt: "lacerations/knife wounds." Which, weirdly, I used as the comfort, not the hurt. Makes sense in context, okay?

Finn can't believe what he's seeing.

Their kitchen is a mess; cutlery, pots and pans, furniture all over the place. The kitchen table has been knocked over, and their pile of papers lies on the floor. The lightbulbs are smashed, little shards of glass on the floor. The books in that bookshelf in the corner have been tossed down, most of them ripped in two. One of the windows is smashed, and Finn really doesn't think it's a good idea for there to be this much broken glass in their kitchen, especially given how often he walks around barefoot. Their plates are smashed, broken china all over the floor. The knives are all over the floor too, and Finn really doesn't want to step on one of those.

And of course, at the head of it all is a loud message in green spray paint on the cupboard in which they keep those plates:

FAG

This. Sucks.

Kurt has a hand over his mouth in shock, horror and despair. Burt has his hand in his jacket, and is pulling on it so hard Finn's kind of expecting Mom to warn him not to tear it. She's not much better, actually; shaking with barely-concealed rage.

"What. The. Fuck?" Finn eventually says, gritting his teeth. It seems to break the spell of shock, and suddenly everyone's moving.

"Oh god, you poor thing," Mom's immediately pulling Kurt into her arms, and he leans to the touch.

"It's okay," Kurt murmurs, but it's really not very convincing. Burt totally calls that bullshit.

"Like hell it is! Kurt, I promise you, we're gonna find who did this and we're gonna see them fucking eat those knives and that paint. Okay?"

It doesn't make a terrible amount of sense, but Finn reckons Burt's just being all Papa Bear right now, so logic's not a massive thing. Finn knows from first-hand experience Papa Bear Burt is scary.

...I can't have that poison in my house...

Fuck. He so did not need to think of that thing right now.

Kurt withdraws from Mom's grasp with a small "Thanks," and Burt lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Really, I mean. Promise you kid, we're going to make someone pay for this."

Kurt nods, and Burt turns to Carole. "Come on, let's go find my camera. Take some photos for evidence; I don't trust the cops 'round this town."

Finn blinks in confusion. "Um, why can't we just use our phones...?"

Burt looks at him. "Yours isn't charged. His is broken. She doesn't even have one. I don't have a clue where mine is right now; I've got a better chance of finding the camera."

Finn nods, and can't help but feel a bit stupid. "Oh. Yeah."

"Come on. Finn, you stay here with him," says Burt before he and Mom walk off on the epic camera quest. Finn doesn't exactly know what Burt expects to happen if he doesn't stay, but he does it regardless. He's like the guard or something.

Kurt sighs, and Finn notices just how heavy he looks. Does that even make sense? Anyway, it just looks like the weight on his shoulders is about to squish him into the floor.

Kurt gingerly picks up one of the chairs – as if he's scared one of the bastards who did this will come out of hiding to knock it over again – and sits, staring down at the floor. Finn has absolutely no idea what to do. Kurt lets out a choked sob, and that pretty much makes Finn act.

"Hey, hey!" he quickly runs to Kurt's chair, squatting in front of it and wrapping his arms around him. "It'll be okay, it'll be okay."

Kurt sobs a few more times into Finn's neck, but Finn doesn't feel tears. "I know," says Kurt. "I know."

He pulls back slightly, so they're just staring at each other, but still with their hands on each others backs. "I'm with your dad on this one," says Finn. "We have killing people to get on with."

Kurt laughs, but then he looks down, pensive. "I'm sorry, Finn... You shouldn't have to... You know."

Finn blinks. He kind of doesn't. "Uh... I'm not following."

Kurt sighs. "It's just... you shouldn't have to deal with it. They're after me; they've always been after me, and I'm used to it. It's not fair you should have you home wrecked along with me – you have nothing to do with this."

"The hell?" Finn says. "Dude, there is absolutely nothing fair or okay about this happening to you either! And it is totally my problem. Because it's yours. Because we're brothers, okay?"

Finn doesn't really pay that much attention to what he's saying, and once he's done, he bites his lip nervously. Not that the sentiment isn't meant to be good and all, but he kind of thinks he's gone too far. They've only lived together for a few months and all, and he doesn't want to be like, taking the big brother role on too soon. He's only actually five months older than Kurt anyway.

Finn waits for Kurt's reaction, which for the moment, seems stuck on shocked. Kurt finally smiles a little, and Finn exhales in relief.

"Thanks," says Kurt. "I still don't think this is... but thanks. For trying to make it better."

Finn is a little annoyed with the fact he hasn't convinced Kurt it's important he cares, but he decides not to push it. "It's cool. Kind of what the big bro' role is for, you know? Well that and tormenting you whenever I get bored. And scaring any potential boyfriends of yours shitless. Which is sort of between the first two, when I think about it."

Kurt smiles, but he looks... uncertain. "Are we?" he asks.

"Brothers?"

Finn frowns. "Of course," he says. Kurt still doesn't look sure, and Finn has an idea. "Hey, do you trust me?"

Kurt nods. Finn leans down to pick up one of those knives on the ground. Kurt's eyes go hilariously wide.

"Finn. What are you doing?" he chokes out, staring at the blade.

"It's, uh..." Finn's not really all that sure how to put it into words. "It's that blood brothers thing. You know?"

Kurt frowns for a second, trying to figure it out. "Wait, you mean that thing where we both cut ourselves and we mix our blood together, so it's meant to mean were relatives?"

Finn nods. "Yeah." Then he's suddenly nervous again, because he was being really presumptuous about all this. "I mean, we don't have to if you don't want to. Because it will, you know, hurt a bit; and maybe it doesn't matter that much; and we could get blood on your clothes and I know the way you are about them, so–"

"Finn," Kurt cuts him off mid-sentence. "Of course I want to do it. Enough with your self-esteem issues."

"Oh," says Finn. "Cool."

He really was scared Kurt didn't want to be his brother, wasn't he?

Kurt sighs. "Give it here, Finn," he says, holding out his hand for the knife. Finn gives it to him.

"Dude, you don't have to go fir–"

"Finn. It's okay. Really," says Kurt. He brings the knife to the lower half of his palm and makes a small, delicate cut. "Ow," he whispers.

"Sorry," says Finn.

"It's fine," says Kurt. "Here."

Kurt gives Finn the knife and Finn takes it; making a cut around the same place Kurt did. Ow.He hisses in pain. "Fuck."

Kurt smiles at him, and Finn observes the blood dripping out.. "You ready?" Kurt asks, and it snaps Finn back to reality.

"What? Yeah," Finn says, and Kurt stretches his hand out. Finn places the cut on his palm over the one on Kurt's, and wraps the rest of his hand around Kurt's wrist (dude, Kurt's hands are tiny).

Are a few seconds, they break apart. "So," says Kurt.

Finn shrugs. "Yeah."

Kurt laughs, but goes quiet as he looks back up at the graffiti. "I hope that paint is water-based," he mutters.

Finn's confused. "Wait, what?"

"It's this phrase... Never mind," Kurt shakes his head. "Forget it."

Finn nods. "Okay then," he says.

Kurt sighs. "I am going to have to claim so many hugs and sympathetic looks for this."

Finn nods. "Duly noted."